


something in between

by marmolita



Category: The Borgias (2011)
Genre: BDSM, Cuckolding, Dom/sub, Exhibitionism, F/M, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Sibling Incest, Voyeurism, Whipping, sort of cuckolding anyway though not literally
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 06:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9536555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marmolita/pseuds/marmolita
Summary: "Whipping and begging in the bedroom?  Well, Brother, it's not something I would ever have thought of, but now that I've seen it I'm intrigued."





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Wildehack (Tyleet)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tyleet/gifts).



> So wildehack introduced me to this show and really wanted some threesome porn. What are friends for? ;)
> 
> Takes place roughly sometime in s2 when Lucrezia is at the Vatican between marriages. It's clearly an AU off of canon with regard to her and Cesare and their relationship.
> 
> I didn't put the archive warning for underage on this because in my head Lucrezia is clearly at least 18 if not older during season 2, but if you can't conceive of a mid-season-2 AU where Lucrezia is an adult then you probably want to skip this. Also obviously warning for incest, and everything else in the tags. There's a brief moment of period-compliant homophobia.

You take a breath, then another. The skin on your back burns, but you clutch the edges of the table harder and dig your heels into the floor.

"Tell me, Micheletto, what is it you want?" Cesare's voice is quiet, but not gentle. Never gentle, not with you. You clench your teeth. There's a soft hiss of leather sliding across the floor as Cesare recoils the flogger in loose loops, then silence as he waits for an answer.

The first time Cesare flogged you, it was for show. He striped your back so that Della Rovere would know you'd been tortured and trust you . . . and because you knew it would entice Della Rovere's fantasies. You do not have a handsome face -- certainly nothing compared to Cesare Borgia -- but your body is lean and muscular, and the ruse worked.

The second time he flogged you was after you failed at your task, leaving Della Rovere alive in Naples. Cesare summoned you out of hiding and brought you to a dungeon, where he asked: what would be appropriate punishment, given your failure to complete your assignment? It was you who selected the flogger, stripped off your shirt, held your tongue as long as you could until you finally gave yourself away with a low moan. Cesare came around to look at you from the front, sweat soaking through his shirt, and laughed at your arousal, unsurprised.

Now, it is a game. You can barely even remember what minor infraction landed you here in his chambers, but you know what your master wants. "Please, Eminence," you whisper, lowering your head.

"Please what? Do you want me to stop?"

You lick your dry lips and stretch your back. "Please hit me again."

Cesare's arm raises and lowers, and the whip cracks, burning welts into your already raw skin. It's perfect. You've never been a religious man, but at times like these you feel like God is with you in your penance. Cesare hits you again, two, three times, and you squeeze your eyes shut and feel moisture seep out the corners and trickle down your cheeks.

There's a thump as the flogger is tossed aside, then Cesare's hand is on your shoulder. Your back isn't the only part of your body that's aflame, and he knows it. "Let go of the table, Micheletto," Cesare murmurs in your ear, lips just brushing your skin. "You can touch yourself."

You let go of the table and fall to your knees, frantically tugging at the laces of your breeches. You're about to reach for your aching cock when you stop short, interrupted by a woman's voice. "Whipping and begging in the bedroom? Well, Brother, it's not something I would ever have thought of, but now that I've seen it I'm intrigued."

Cesare recoils abruptly, and you stay frozen in place, barely glancing over your shoulder to see Lucrezia in the doorway.

"You shouldn't be here, Sis." Cesare moves between you to shield you from view, but Lucrezia deftly steps to the side.

"Good evening, Micheletto," she says.

You move your hands to your thighs where they'll be visible, and incline your head to her. "My lady."

Cesare grabs Lucrezia's arms before she can come any closer. "Why did you come here?" he asks, but she only replies lightly, "Do you take him to your bed often?"

"He is not _in my bed_. I am not a sodomite." Somewhere inside, your gut twists. He is vehement in his insistence, and while he frequently blurs the lines of the truth, he's not lying. You have never been in Cesare's bed, and he has never touched you, not the way you want to be touched.

Cesare is holding Lucrezia closer now, and she lays her hands on his chest, one moving up to play with the curling ends of his hair. "Of course not," she says, but there's humor in her tone. "Did you know, I quite regularly hear the other ladies and maids discussing your vigour, Brother."

"Favorably, I hope."

"Yes, of course." Her hand moves to his cheek, caressing the rough growth of beard there as Cesare leans in closer to her. "Many dream of getting this close to you."

You look away. You don't need to watch to know how Cesare feels about his sister. Sure enough, you soon hear the wet sound of their lips meeting, and the rustle of his hands moving over her heavy skirts. It's not a thing that he would let anyone else witness, but you already know all of his secrets. You also know you live by Cesare's whim, and could die just as easily; if you ever betrayed him, you would do the deed yourself. And so, you have become so trusted as to be an extension of Cesare's person; his shadow, a dark reflection always by his side.

"Why did you come here?" he asks again.

"To see you, of course," Lucrezia replies, giggling. You quietly lace your breeches as the sounds of kissing resume. Your rise and turn towards the door, picking up your shirt, but Lucrezia pulls away from her brother's embrace and catches your eye before you can slip the shirt over your head. "Have your pet stay," she says, eyes on you. "Let him get a look at what he so dearly desires but will never have, Cesare."

There is something in Cesare's eyes when they meet yours, but you hesitate to define it. Jealousy, trepidation . . . desire? "You would allow him to look upon your naked body?"

"I would allow him to look upon _your_ naked body, dear brother. I doubt he has any interest in mine. Isn't that right, Micheletto?"

Lucrezia Borgia is a beam of sunlight: beautiful, glorious, and when focused, able to start fires. As Cesare loves her so must you, but you aren't _hers_ the way you are _his_ , and you sometimes wonder which of the two of them is the more dangerous. "I would never presume to touch you, my lady," you say honestly. Lucrezia laughs, and Cesare looks relieved. You'd like to believe it's because he doesn't want to share you with her, but you know it's that he doesn't want to share her with you.

Still, his eyes are dark and intense when he looks at you, sending a burst of heat throbbing through your aching back and down between your legs. "You can stay if you'd like," he tells you, and you hate how glad you are for it. "On your knees on the floor. You may touch yourself, but--"

"Yes, Eminence," you say. It's rude to cut him off but you're already moving to comply with his instructions, dropping your shirt and kneeling on a woolen rug at a safe distance from the bed. You keep your hands on your thighs, but resist the temptation to drop your gaze. Instead, you look back at Cesare steadily, until he huffs a short laugh, corners of his mouth tugging up, and leans in to kiss Lucrezia again. You watch intently this time: the way his mouth moves against hers, the give and take of their lips, the force of his kiss making her sway backward until he catches her with hands firm on her hips, fingers digging into her skirts.

You wonder whether he would be like that with you, but you think the answer is no. You and Cesare have always communicated through violence: his dagger at your throat, your sword at his. His whip at your back. You don't know how to be anything other than what you are.

Cesare pulls back and strips off his shirt, and your cock starts to fill again at the sight of him. Lucrezia looks at him just as hungrily as you do, eyes raking over the hardened planes of his chest and stomach; the difference is that she can touch, and you cannot. Her hands settle on his chest, fingertips spreading over his muscles as she kisses him again. She pushes him toward the bed, smiling, then strips off her gown and tosses it in your direction; it hits the floor just in front of your knees. Cesare glances over at you and seems pleased to find you still watching, your hands fisted in your breeches with your arousal plainly evident.

Lucrezia loosens the ties of her shift and pulls it off, revealing a long expanse of pale, soft skin. She's as beautiful as any portrait of Venus, a beauty you can appreciate without desiring. Cesare, however, has a darkness about him that could never be captured on a canvas, a beauty of a different sort entirely. Even now, having been with his sister on several occasions, he still resists giving in to his own temptations entirely. You can see it in every move: he wants more, but he won't take it. He holds himself back because he's afraid of what he might do if he were to let go.

You want to see him let go more than anything.

While he's demanding with you, expecting nothing less that complete and total loyalty and obedience, he's far gentler with Lucrezia. He lets her playfully remove his breeches, and he lets her push him down onto the bed. You dig your nails into your legs at the sight of his lean body exposed, his hard cock lying against his belly. You think you might be drawing blood.

Lucrezia climbs on top of Cesare, and he gets a hold of her breasts, caressing, rubbing his thumbs over her nipples and making her sigh in pleasure. She reaches down and takes hold of his cock, stroking it slowly; the flush that rises in his cheeks, the way he draws in a sharp breath, every minute shift of his body sends another jolt of desire through you. "Do you think, Brother, that I could make you beg, just as you made Micheletto beg?"

"Do I look like the sort of man who would beg?" As always, Cesare puts on a show of confidence, but it's clear he will do whatever Lucrezia wants him to. Still holding him in her hand, she lowers herself just enough to tease, the tip of his cock barely rubbing against her.

"Do not underestimate me," she laughs, sliding against him. You slowly release your grip on your breeches and begin to move your hand up your thigh as she kisses him again, sucking on his lower lip. You've imagined kissing him innumerable times, a thought always shoved quickly out of mind except in the loneliest hours of the night. You've thought about feeling his beard against your own, about the heat of his mouth, about the taste of sweat on his skin. In your fantasies, there are always teeth.

But there are no teeth with Lucrezia. She kisses down the side of his throat, and he moves his hands down her sides to her hips, then over her thighs. You unlace your breeches again as he tries to rock his hips up and is prevented by her hand holding him down. "I could flip you over and ravish you," Cesare tells her conversationally.

"You could," Lucrezia agrees, sitting up, "but you won't, because you want to please me." She guides his cock to her entrance again, this time lowering enough for the head to barely slip inside, then lifts herself up again. His hands squeeze her thighs, not enough to pull her down, just enough for you to know that he's curbing his desires. You take hold of your own cock, not stroking, just holding it; you think there is perhaps no more erotic sight in the world than Cesare Borgia, naked and flushed with arousal, barely restraining himself from action.

She teases him like that, rubbing him against her, only just letting him inside, until both of them are breathing hard -- until all three of you are breathing hard. "Lucrezia," Cesare moans, and she tosses her hair back and smiles.

"What is it you want, Brother?" Her words echo Cesare's, and you wonder how much of your game she witnessed. You wonder if he remembers saying those words to you. You wonder if he realizes just how badly you want him.

"God," he says, "just let me-- I want _you_."

"Mmmm, that doesn't sound like begging." Lucrezia's voice is steady, but the color is high in her cheeks and her thighs are trembling. She wants this just as much as he does, just as much as you do. She sinks down again, his cock sliding along her folds, and he groans, making your own cock twitch in your hand.

"Please," he says finally, fingers digging into her hips. "Please, let me fuck you."

The shiver that runs through you makes you want to close your eyes, but you force yourself to keep them open, to watch the way Lucrezia's lips twitch into a triumphant smile, to watch as she finally takes his cock down to the root. They both cry out in pleasure and you bite your lips to keep quiet. She leans down to kiss him urgently, then whispers, barely audible, "Ravish me, Cesare."

Cesare doesn't need any more instruction than that. He rolls the two of them over and starts thrusting into her, and you begin stroking yourself in time with his rhythm. Whatever else is said about the Borgias, no one denies their beauty, and you count yourself lucky to witness them, just like you count yourself lucky when your position in Cesare's household grants you access to the masterpieces of the most skilled artists of your time. The candlelight makes his skin glow, tanned next to Lucrezia's pale flesh.

Even now, you can see he's holding himself back; he doesn't want to hurt her, doesn't want to even come close to hurting her. If it were you -- an impossibility to be sure, one you barely even allow yourself to imagine -- if it were you, he would let go. He wouldn't worry about hurting you, because he knows you'd want him to, and God, do you want him to. You want him to hold you down with his hand around your throat and fuck you so hard you can't think anymore. You want him to take his pleasure from you, secure in the knowledge that he owns you, body and soul.

(And yet, deep inside, where you can't quite admit it to yourself, you want him to treat you tenderly, to caress your cheek and tell you he loves you, to lie next to you through the night, to take you away from the life you're both stuck in. But you are not that sort of a person. You are a monster, and Cesare is-- something in between.)

Cesare turns his head and looks at you, and you burn with shame to have your desire laid bare on your face. But he smiles, showing his teeth, and you spill over your hand, biting your tongue to keep quiet. His grin widens, then he turns his attention back to Lucrezia, reaching a hand between their bodies to help her find her climax. You remain in a daze as you watch him move faster, waiting until she writhes and cries out before burying his face in her neck and driving to his own completion with a moan that you'll be hearing in your dreams for weeks.

He collapses on top of her, then rolls off to the side, cradling her in his arms. You wipe your hand on a handkerchief and lace up your breeches, then tug your shirt over your head. It stings where it touches the welts on your back, and you're glad you'll carry the reminder of this for days.

"Tell me, Micheletto," Lucrezia says, just as you put your hand on the door to leave, "is my brother not worthy of a portrait by Pinturicchio?"

"No artist could do him justice, my lady," you reply. Her laughter echoes as you open the door and close it behind you. You lean back against the door for a moment, eyes closed, letting yourself dream, just for a moment.

Dreams are a luxury you can't afford, and so you straighten your back, check your weapons, and go to work.

**Author's Note:**

> A million thanks to misswonderheart and introductory for beta! And a million thanks to wildehack for countless evenings of screaming about Cesare over tumblr chat.


End file.
